


Bucky, Natasha and the Date

by elliott (amywaited)



Series: Bucky, Natasha and the '...' [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cute, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, honestly i love all of them, im so bad at tagging, two part one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 16:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14501451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/elliott
Summary: Natasha is so very done with her friends. They are embarrassingly oblivious.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this isnt a nat/buck date. soz. enjoy it!
> 
> can be read as a standalone, there are just a few things you won't get.

Bucky suddenly realised he was spending a lot of time staring at Clint, and Steve and Tony. 

Natasha noticed as well, if the not so subtle hints at asking Clint out were anything to go by.

“Nat, for the last time. I’m not asking him out.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Natasha mutters. “And don’t think I haven’t caught you staring at Steve and Tony too. It’s not hard to figure out that you want what they have.”

“I- I do not want what they have!” At Natasha’s disbelieving glare, he frowns and corrects himself, “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Ask him out and maybe you can!” Natasha exclaims. “Come on, Bucky. You can’t just let yourself mope around the tower feeling jealous. If you don’t say anything, I will.”

“No,” Bucky says. “If anything is going to happen, I’m going to do it, not you. Not because I don’t trust you but.. Because I don’t trust you.”

Natasha shrugs. “Whatever. Just do it soon, okay? I can’t stand to see my two best friends looking so tragically lovesick any longer.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees. “Now, how about you and Pepper?”

“Potts?”

“What other Pepper’s do you know?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Alright, sure. But there’s nothing going on there,” Natasha says primly.

“I may be oblivious when it comes to my own relationships, but it’s clear as day you like each other,” he says, “Pepper was making kissy faces at you the entire time we were in London.”

“She was not!”

“Yes, she was. She was definitely staring at you.”

Natasha goes slightly red, so Bucky takes pity on her and plays one of the films Tony was making him watch instead.

 

*

 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, suspiciously Tony-less.

“Hi,” Bucky says. “Where’s your koala?”

“Koala?” Steve frowns and then chuckles, “Oh, you mean Tony. He’s at a meeting right now, so I have no doubts I’ll have my hands full later. Anyway, it feels like I hardly see you anymore. Nat’s been stealing you away a lot.”

If there’s an underlying implication to that sentence, Bucky doesn’t catch it. 

“Yeah, she has. We have fun together,” he says. 

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Fun?”

“Bath bombs,” Bucky says nonchalantly. “Movie nights, sleepovers. That sort of thing.”

Steve’s eyebrows appear to be trying to escape off his face. 

Bucky frowns. “You okay, pal?”

“Peachy,” Steve gasps out, suspiciously red in the cheeks. “I’ve got to- I’ve got to go.” And then he’s gone before Bucky can even process how Steve had been acting. 

 

*

 

“I don’t know what you did to Steve,” Tony announces, sitting on the floor in front of the treadmill Bucky was using, “but I applaud you. What did you tell him?”

Bucky frowns and slows, the treadmill automatically slowing too. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? You and Steve must have talked about something, because he’s been sat in one spot for three hours,” Tony says, sounding exasperated. 

“Oh,” Bucky steps off of the treadmill and shoves it over a few feet so he can sit cross legged opposite Tony. “He came and asked me about Natasha-”   


“He didn’t!” Tony exclaims.

“He did? He was asking what we did together.”

“Oh, my God.”

It’s not every day that someone can make Tony Actual Stark speechless, so Bucky takes a few seconds to revel in his achievement before answering. He shrugs, and fiddles with the rubber pads on the bottom of the treadmill. “I just told him that we watched movies, and had sleepovers, and she introduced me to bath bombs.”   


Realisation dawns on Tony’s face in the form of a wide grin and twinkling eyes. “Oh, man. I really want to hug you right now. That’s brilliant. Did you mean to?”

“Mean to what? Insinuate that me and Natasha ‘Black Widow’ Romanoff are fucking?” Bucky grins. “Maybe a little. Can’t believe he actually brought it, though. There is no way in hell I’d fuck a Black Widow, does he think I’m crazy?”

“I think you’re crazy, if that counts,” Tony says. “But that’s okay. You aren’t permitted entrance to any of my buildings if you aren’t a little bit crazy. We all have our crazy. I’ve said crazy so much it doesn’t really sound like a word anymore.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “He’s still as gullible as when he was about five feet high. It helps that you have him wrapped around your little finger.”   


“We would make a formidable team, wouldn’t we?” Tony muses.

 

*

 

“What were you and Tony talking about earlier?” Natasha asks him, scooping a reheated meatball onto her fork (one of the solid silver ones that Tony always says are for special meals, but end up making their way into the everyday cutlery drawer anyway).

“Not much,” Bucky says dismissively.

“Really? Because you both had an identical look on your face.”   


“What look?” Bucky frowns, looking up from where he’s glaring at his own spaghetti, as if it’ll make it cooperate.

“The sort of look Clint gets when he’s about to prank someone,” Natasha says. “It’s kind of terrifying. But I promise you, I have a worse one if I’m on the receiving end of said prank.”

“I’d be stupid to prank you,” Bucky scoffs. “No offence, but you kind of scare me.”

“That’s the best compliment someone has ever given me,” Natasha says, seriously. “You scare me too, sometimes. No offence.”

“Clint says I’m more like an angry kitten,” Bucky shrugs.

“You talked to Clint?” Natasha presses, leaning forward on her elbows. The meatball lies forgotten on her plate, stabbed through with a fork. “When? What did you say? Did you ask him out? Did he ask you out?”

“For a terrifying spy, you are worryingly interested in my love life,” Bucky says. “And no, neither one of us did any asking out. I talked to him about three days ago and haven’t since.”   


“You’re killing me, Bucky. Killing me,” Natasha groans, her head falling into her hands. “You two are absolutely hopeless.”   


Bucky shrugs again, slurping up spaghetti so he doesn’t have to answer.

 

*

 

“Hey, Buck,” Clint says, sliding along the entire length of Tony’s marble breakfast bar, only to crash into Bucky’s side and spill hot coffee everywhere.

“Oh, shit,” Bucky exclaims, jolting and shoving Clint out the way.

“Crap, I’m so sorry. You have coffee all over you! Here,” Clint says, grabbing a handful of paper towels. “Let me help. Great reflexes, by the way. Just wish you weren’t the one taking the brunt of the attack.”

“Who was the one who caused the attack?” Bucky asked, glaring up at Clint.

“Hey, don’t look at me, bud,” Clint says, flinging his hands up in surrender. “Not my fault-”   


“Kind of your fault.”

“- I just wanted to say hello, and obviously misjudged how fast I needed to go,” Clint finishes.

“You could have walked? Like a normal person?” Bucky suggests.

“Pfft, normal? How much of our lives is normal?” Clint asks. “Why would I want to be abnormal outside of the kitchen, and normal inside of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe it would result in fewer casualties,” Bucky says, gesturing at his now coffee soaked t-shirt.

Clint grins and jumps off of the countertop. “You’re a super duper soldier, right? You’ll be fine.”   


Bucky grimaces when he realises Clint is an entire head taller than him. “Yeah, still doesn’t change the fact that it happened. Now I need a new shirt.” He pulls it off without thinking, turning around to start the coffee machine again. It’s only when he spins back to face Clint and push past him to get a new mug, that he realises Clint has gone completely still (and amusingly, adorably, red faced).

“I- Uh, I-”

“Move, please,” Bucky says, “Or if you don’t want to, you can get me a new mug.”   


Clint nods frantically, spinning around to pluck a mug from the highest shelf. Bucky can hear him count to three under his breath before he turns back around.

“Here. Is this- Is this good?”

“You okay, Clint?” Bucky asks, taking the mug and deliberately brushing his fingertips over Clint’s. 

“I- uh, I- Yeah. Fine. I’m- I- Training. Now. Bye?”

And then he’s gone and Bucky can finally let himself exhale and laugh.

“Is Clint okay?” Steve asks, glancing back out the door, and then at Bucky. “Uh. What happened?”

“Clint spilled coffee on me,” Bucky says, gesturing to the coffee flavoured shirt on the counter. “So I made him get me a new mug.”   


Steve frowns. “Buck, he looked absolutely traumatised. Bright red.”

Which just sets Bucky off giggling again.

 

*

 

“So?” Natasha asks that evening. They’re reheated taco meat straight out the bowl, with crushed tacos shells, grated cheese, and grated carrot all mixed in. (Nat’s speciality- deconstructed tacos). 

Bucky digs his fork in (plastic this time), takes a bite and then pushes himself up onto the edge of the counter. “So what?”

“So, did you ask him out yet?”

Bucky almost chokes. “No! But- wait, did Steve tell you?”

“Steve tell me what?” Natasha asks.

“About earlier?” At her blank look, Bucky puts the fork down and grins. “Right, okay. Well, Clint spilled coffee on me earlier. Totally his fault, don’t let him tell you otherwise. Anyway, it got all over my shirt, so I-”

Natasha interrupts to finish his sentence with him “You took your shirt off? Oh, my God. How could Steve not tell me this?”   


“I’m kinda surprised Clint didn’t come to find you, actually,” Bucky says. “Steve said he looked mortified.”

“I would be too, if I was in love with,” she pats his right bicep. “This.”   


“But you aren’t,” Bucky says. “I hope not, anyway. Because the feelings aren’t reciprocated, and I don’t really want to hurt you.”   


“Love is for children,” Natasha sniffs, and then winces in the same way Bucky does when he remembers something nasty. “Well, I used to think that.”

He doesn’t say anything, just lets her talk if she wants.

She does. “I guess Tony’s had the your crazy is my crazy talk with you, right? Only fair you know a little about all of our crazy."   


“I know Steve’s crazy,” Bucky says. “But Tony didn’t share anything about his, so you don’t have to.”   


“No, I- I don’t want you to feel left out, okay? So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, the rest of them all know my baggage. It’s about time you do to. But, um. Look, I don’t want to trigger anything, so just.. Just know that the Winter Soldier was one of my instructors. I was trained to be, well, the female version of the Winter Soldier. It’s why I could fight you so well. Because I’d been trained by you.

“They took twenty eight orphaned girls, injected us with some kind of variation of the serum you and Steve had, or something. One that made us appear younger for longer, and healthier, and stronger and all that. Then they eliminated all weaknesses - love, happiness, regret. They sterilised us all too.”   


“Sterilised..?” Bucky asks.

“I can’t ever have children,” Natasha says, by way of explanation. “Not that I would want to, in this line of work. But still. That choice was taken from me. And I know it’s not the same as what you experienced, but you aren’t alone. And if you’re staying here, then it’ll be good for you to know everyone’s backstories. I can probably ask Tony, and Clint, and maybe Bruce to divulge.”   


“You don’t have to,” Bucky says, feeling kind of shell shocked. “I’ll ask them, maybe.”

Natasha nods. “I know it’s not gonna be easy, when you realise that your alter ego helped shape me into who I am today. You’re in shock now, so it probably won’t set in for a few hours. But listen, I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t think it was important. You deserve to know as much about yourself as we do, even if it’s from the not you parts. They still make up some of you.”   


Bucky nods slowly. “Um. Thank you.”

Natasha smiles a closed lip smile. “Here, you can finish it,” she says, handing him the deconstructed taco container. “I’m going to bed.”   


“Sleep well,” Bucky says, only a minute too late. His brain is more focused on what Natasha told him.

 

*

 

"Um, sorry about earlier,” Clint says quietly, when he realises Bucky’s sitting on the sofa in the common lounge at three am.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, wincing at how tired he sounds.

“You okay?” Clint asks, moving into Bucky’s peripheral. “Can I sit?”

Bucky nods once, so Clint shuffles over, pausing to yawn and then slumping against the opposite arm of the sofa.

“How much sleep have you had?” Clint asks, glancing over.

“Three hours,” Bucky shrugs.

“Hah,” Clint says softly. “Beat you. I had one and a half.”   


Bucky turns to frown at him. “Why?”

“Nightmares,” Clint shrugs. “You?”   


“Nightmares,” Bucky agrees.

“Well, you want some coffee? I promise not to spill on you this time,” Clint says, and only then does Bucky notice how his fingers are twitching for something to do.

“If you’re making it,” he says, leaning his head back against the back of the couch.

“I am making it,” Clint says and Bucky feels the weight lift as he stands up.

He doesn’t know exactly how long it takes Clint, but it can’t be more than five minutes. Soon enough he’s sitting back down next to Bucky, and pushing a mug into his hand.

“So,” Clint says. “You want to talk about what yours were about?”

“Just.. Something Natasha told me earlier. About the Red Room.”   


“She told you about the Red Room?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “How the Winter Soldier was one of her instructors.”   


“Holy shit, man. That’s rough,” Clint says. “Like, seriously.”

“I know, right?” Bucky mumbles, and takes a sip of coffee. Clint makes good coffee.

“If she told you her crazy, she must trust you,” Clint says, exhaling softly. 

“I trust her back,” Bucky shrugs. “She said maybe it would help me trust all of you. Hearing about your shit. I don’t know. She said it’s weird that all of you know all of my stuff and I know none of yours.”

“It is unfair, she’s right,” Clint says. “And I would tell you mine, but I.. can’t right now.”   


“I wasn’t expecting you to,” Bucky says, “Not right now, not if you don’t want to.”

“Good,” Clint hums.

Bucky takes another mouthful of coffee. “You know what, I am officially hiring you as my coffee maker,” he says.

“You what?” Clint turns to him, laughing. “Isn’t that slavery, or something?”

“Well, maybe I’d let you drink too,” Bucky allows.

“Gee, thanks,” Clint says. “I’ll make you coffee whenever you want it, if it’s that good. None of the others really think so. It’s either too strong, too weak, or too alcohol-y.”   


“Alcohol-y?” Bucky frowns.

“Yep. Sometimes I put whisky or rum in. Some of Tony’s expensive stuff,” he shrugs. “It’s a trick I learnt a while back.”   


Bucky picks up on the reluctance in Clint’s voice, so he doesn’t press for details. “Rum was always too expensive in the forties, so we’d make do with a cheap slosh of beer from the pub that no one could really trust, but not enough to stop going.”   


“Bet you’re glad you live in a tower with a mega billionaire, then. You can have whatever you want, because Tony probably has the funds,” Clint says with a smile. “Unless you want, like, seventy Lamborghinis. Apparently, even Tony has his limits.”   


“How would you know about these limits?” Bucky asks.

“Oh, you know. By testing them,” Clint says.

“Does he have any limits on public sex?” Bucky asks.

“Why do you ask?” Clint coughs, trying not to choke. “And no, he probably doesn’t. Just don’t do it outside, because that’s illegal.”   


“Asking for a friend,” Bucky explains dismissively. “Nat’s feeling experimentational.”   


“With who? You?” Clint asks.

“Pfft. No way. I’m trying to set her up with Pepper.”   


“Potts?”

“Jesus, how many Pepper’s do you know?” Bucky says. “You and Natasha both asked the same thing.”   


“Well,” Clint says, holding up a hand and starting to count off on his fingers. “There’s black pepper, tellicherry pepper, green peppercorns, white peppercorns, red peppercorns, pink peppercorns, and of course, our Pepper.”   


“How the fuck do you know so much about pepper types, man?”

“That’s just the seasoning,” Clint says. “I haven’t even started on the vegetable.”

If Bucky thought he was in love before, it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. Then he realises that that’s basically admitting that Natasha was right and he should probably try the convince her to become a fortune teller, or something. Or bake her a load of cookies as thanks.

 

*

 

He decides against thanking her when his sudden acknowledgement of his crush meant he was suddenly hyper aware of every single, little, tiny thing Clint did. Bucky wasn’t even sure if this was standard crush behaviour, or if he was just being a massive creepy stalker. He doesn’t ask Natasha about which one it is, because she also appears to have a shot idea of love too.

It’s even worse in battle, because Bucky always seems to find he has at least one eye on Clint at all times. And sometimes he can’t tell whether it’s looking out for him, or just admiring the way his biceps look when shooting arrows at bad guys. Like now. 

“Alright, everybody, focus!” Steve says, over the comms. 

“Focused,” Clint grumbles, taking out three guys at once. If Bucky takes a minute to stare, that’s neither here nor there.

“Stay that way, then. Just because we’ve fought Doom bots before doesn’t mean they can’t still defeat us,” Steve says.

“You seriously think fucking Doom bots could take us out?” Tony asks, his voice all incredulous. “Us?!”

“Let’s not take any chances,” Steve says, shoving his shield through the body of one.

“Wasn’t going to,” Tony says, shooting two repulsor beams at a pair of bots attempting to crawl over a pile of rubble to get to Steve.

“Who’s got the most so far?” Clint asks after a few minutes.

“Ten bucks on Nat,” Tony says instantly.

“Ten bucks on Bucky,” Steve counters.

Bucky and Natasha exchange identical glances after she’s flipped off of his back. “We’re actually working together,” Bucky says, holding his metal hand out for Natasha to leap on. He shoves upward, throwing her onto the body of an incoming bot (because apparently they fly, now.)

“That shouldn’t affect your kill count,” Clint says. “Mine’s fifty six.”   


“Fifty four,” Tony says. “Fuck you, Barton.”   


“I think we’re both probably in triple figures,” Natasha says, letting herself fall with the Doom bot and landing gracefully on Bucky’s shoulders, before jumping to the ground.

“No exact count?” Tony whines. “Damn. Whatever, we’ll check the playback in debriefing.”

“Maybe we should get back to battle,” Steve suggests. “Instead of childish competitions.”   


“Oh yeah?” Bucky snorts. “What’s your kill count, Mr I’m too old for this?”

“I am too old for this.”   


“So am I, asshole,” Bucky says, sparing Steve an exasperated glance from across the street.

“You guys can grump about your age later,” Clint says. “We’re kinda busy here, if you hadn- SHIT!”

“Clint?” Natasha yells.

“Hawkeye, report,” Steve orders.

“C’mon, Legolas, don’t let them get you,” says Tony.

Bucky just scans across all the rooftops for him, and then the streets when that turns out to be fruitless.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Clint says, and he sounds painfully winded. “I’m on the top of the apartment block to Bucky’s left- hey, Bucky, cover me.”   


“The fuck for?” Bucky asks, and then watches as Clint divebombs off of a twenty story building. “What the shit, Barton?!” He covers him anyway, shooting a load of bullets at any Doom bots in a block radius. “That cover enough?”

“Perfect,” Clint says. Bucky watches him execute a perfect forward roll onto the tarmac. Then he watches the streak of blood left behind.

“What happened to you, Hawkeye?” He asks, before he realises he’s asking it.

“Nothing,” Clint says, avoiding looking at Bucky by shooting an exploding arrow at a bot. “Hey, Tony, are you anywhere near finding the power source yet?”

“Ten minutes, and we’ll be there,” Tony says.

“Make it five,” Steve orders. “If Hawkeye is hurt, we need to wrap this up soon as.”   


“You try locating a reactor in the midst of a teenager’s bedroom,” Tony grumbles. “Can we compromise on seven?”

“This isn’t a teenager’s bedroom, and no, we can’t,” Steve says.

“It’s messy enough to be,” Tony says. “And seriously, until you’ve found some shitty car battery thing in the middle of this crap, you don’t get to bitch about how long it takes me to find it.”   


“We’re supposed to be keeping collateral to a minimum,” Steve mutters. 

“You try telling that to Dr Doom,” Tony says.

“Guys, can we focus on Clint now, please? Because he’s kind of collapsed,” Bucky cuts in, somersaulting off of a fire escape and landing in a crouch next to Clint, who is leaning against a destroyed wall and sort of panting.

“I’m fine,” Clint says.

“The hell you are! You- What were you even trying to do?” Bucky asks. “You are going to bleed out if you aren’t careful, you fucking moron.”   


“I’m fine,” Clint repeats, “Stop overreacting.”   


Maybe Bucky is panicking a little bit. But it’s totally justified, because Clint is all pale and bloody and sort of ick looking. “For God’s sake, Barton,” he hisses. “This is not overreacting. This is me, having a normal reaction to you, being a self sacrificing idiot.”   


“Christ, say it like you mean it,” Clint mutters.

“Iron Man, send out one of the Iron Legion. We’ll transport Hawkeye to medical, clear this up and get back,” Steve says.

“On it,” Tony agrees. “Oh, hey! Found the power source.”

“If you think I’m going to medical while the rest of you schmooze with the press and oversee clean up, you’re wrong,” Clint says. Even his voice sounds like he’s in pain now.

“Tony, can you switch the power off?” Steve asks, ignoring Clint.

“If you won’t go to medical alone, I’ll come with,” Bucky says. “You are not staying here, looking like you’re one wrong word away from certain death.”   


“Why the hell would you come with me?” Clint asks.

“Because there is no way in hell I’m leaving you to die before asking you on a date,” Bucky hisses. “Okay? I do not want to profess my undying love, and then have you die anyway.”

Clint has gone uncharacteristically silent.

“Right, then,” Bucky says. “I’ll carry you to SHIELD base.” So he scoops his left arm under Clint’s back, and his right under Clint’s knees, being careful not to jostle the wound winding it’s way from his back to his belly button.

 

*

 

“It’s a pretty perfect cut,” Clint says, twisting and turning in the mirror. The cut starts somewhere in the middle of Clint’s upper back, moving downwards at a harsh slope and then twining around his left side, to end a centimetre above his belly button.

“It’s a life threatening cut, is what it is,” Bucky grumbles. “Come on. Back in the bed before Natasha gets here and kicks your ass.”   


“She doesn’t do ass kickery if one of us is injured,” Clint says, but Bucky knows already.

“Then she’ll do it in spirit. Either way, she’ll get you back into bed with some kind of force. So I’d recommend doing it yourself.”   


Clint sighs a world-weary sigh and complies, tugging his shirt back down over the cut and sliding into bed.

“Why didn’t they put bandages on it?” Bucky asks, when Clint looks as settled as he’s probably going to get.

“Cause everyone at SHIELD knows not to put bandages on me,” Clint says. “It’s one of my things.” “Oh. Alright.”

Three minutes, and one embarrassingly long advert for some kind of automatic jelly maker passes and still no sign of the rest of the team. Clint says, “did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Bucky asks, tearing his gaze away from the TV when the ad takes a turn for the weird.

“What you said. Earlier. About wanting to take me on a date before I kicked the bucket.”

Clint sounds hesitant, and shy (which are two things Bucky would never have pegged Clint as).

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” Bucky says after a minute of consideration. “Is that okay?”

“More than,” Clint says.

Bucky doesn’t remember when they started kissing, but Clint is soft, and warm, and kind of minty and a little bit sweaty. He kind of really likes it.

 

*

 

“I knew it,” Natasha says, effectively waking Bucky up (even if her voice didn’t reach above thirty or so decibels. It’s a super soldier/spy/assassin thing). “So?”

Bucky shifts, noting with a low level of satisfaction that he and Clint are smooshed on Clint’s hospital bed. “So what?”

“ _ So _ , have you done it yet?” Natasha asks. 

“Your interest in my private affairs is a bit worrying, Nat,” Clint grumbles. It’s half muffled by Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Exactly,” Bucky agrees. 

“I would say it’s just me wanting what’s best for my besties,” Natasha huffs. “How are you feeling, Clint?”

“Like I got run over with a chainsaw,” Clint says. 

“And that is why we don’t jump twenty odd stories onto concrete,” Bucky says. “That would have been high enough to kill you.”

“The coffee machine could kill me if it tried hard enough,” Clint says.

“Yes, thank you, I’m aware that every aspect of our life is dangerous. I just don’t particularly enjoy when you decide to put yourself at unnecessary risk,” says Bucky.

“Are you two having a domestic?” Natasha asks, glancing between the two of them.

“We are not having a domestic,” Clint says, agitated.

Bucky glares back at her, “We’re not. I’m simply expressing how much I dislike when Clint throws himself off of buildings.”

“I’m fine, for crying out loud. I know how to land properly. One of the first things we learnt in spy camp,” Clint grumbles. “Just because I’m a squishy human doesn’t mean I don’t know how to take care of myself.”

“I’m a squishy human too, and you don’t see me jumping off of buildings,” Bucky says.

“Not to take sides, but you jump of buildings more than Clint does, Bucky. And you aren’t as squishy human. You could survive jumping out of a plane without a parachute if you tried hard enough,” Natasha says. “So I really don’t see the point of this argument.”

“I don’t either,” Clint mutters.

“I can afford to jump off buildings,” Bucky says. “I will probably survive. One wrong move and Clint could die.”   


“Jesus,” Natasha murmurs. “If I had known that getting the two of you together would result in turning Bucky into a mother hen, I don’t know if I would have done it.”   


“Don’t lie,” Clint sulks. “Of course you would have.”

“Probably right. Sort yourselves out,” She says. “Don’t fight too long, okay? I would like for you two to get along for longer than a week.”   
  


*

 

“Sorry Nat,” Clint says as soon as he’s released from SHIELD medical and sent home.

“What for?” Natasha asks, looking up from her tablet. There’s a hologram projection of what looks like a report on something or other addressed to Agent Coulson, and an almost identical one next to it addressed to Agent Hill.

“For fucking up your ship,” Clint says, “Before it even sails.”   


“You guys broke up already?” She swipes through the holograms and they disperse into glittery blue particles in the air, before vanishing.

“No, I just- Sorry for when we do.”   


“Who says you’re going to?” She frowns.

“None of my relationships last longer than a month,” Clint says, “You know that. I don’t know why you’d expect this one to be any different. They get fed up with me, and they move on, and then you have to pick up the pieces. What makes you think anything’s changed?”

“Because I think Bucky actually likes you this time,” She tells him.

“And I actually like him. I don’t want to get my heart broken when he eventually gets sick of me.”

“He won’t,” Natasha says.

Clint narrows his eyes. “How do you know for sure?”

“Because I’ll kill him if he does,” she says firmly. “Now come on. Come sit.”   


Clint does, flopping onto the couch so his head lands in her lap and his legs hang over the arm of the couch, bending at his knees. Natasha automatically starts to thread her fingers through his hair, out of habit.

“Why do you think he’ll get sick of you?” Natasha asks, sort of whispering now. It’s not late, not really, but JARVIS turns the lights down anyway.

“Look at the statistics, Nat,” Clint replies. “All of my past relationships have ended because the other party got bored, or frustrated with me. Even all the undercover ones.”

“This one might be different. It’s been, what, a week? Why don’t you take him out, or something? See if he seems legit,” She suggests.

“I guess. I’m just..”

“Scared?” Natasha supplies. “That’s understandable. I don’t blame you. Love is scary, and sometimes it hurts. But I’ve heard it can be worth it.”

“Where have you heard that?” Clint asks.

Natasha shrugs shamelessly. “Hallmark cards. Thor likes them, he has an entire collection in his lounge.”   


“Of course he does,” Clint says. “I’m surprised you agree with the sentiment that love is worth it.”

“I don’t,” She says. “I just think it’s a nice thing to believe in.”   


“Love?”

“Love,” Natasha confirms.

“Huh,” Clint says.

Somehow he falls asleep, in the half light, with Natasha’s fingers untangling the knots in his hair. The blue glow from her reports shines on her face, making her look pale and sickly but her hands are warm and so is she.

 

*

 

“Natasha!” Bucky yells. “Nat!”

She appears from the bedroom of her apartment, holding a bowl of cookie dough icecream. She hands that to him as soon as she’s close enough. “What?”

“Clint- he asked me on a date. And I have no idea what to do.”

“Finally,” Natasha mutters, and then louder, “What do you need help with?”

“I haven’t been on a date since the thirties,” Bucky admits. “I don’t know how different things will be.”

“Not very. Treat servers nicely, tip fifteen percent, if there’s anything you don’t understand, ask Clint, wear nice clothes and maybe pack a gun or two just in case,” She rattles off.

“I don’t have nice clothes. They’re all black and lined with kevlar.”   


“That’s okay, all Clint owns is purple sweatshirts,” Natasha grins. “Come on, we can borrow some of Steve’s stuff.”

Bucky just nods and follows, bowl of cookie dough ice cream in hand.

 

*

 

A whirlwind is probably the best way to describe Natasha. She hands him button ups, and cotton t-shirts, and vest tops to try. And then she chucks jeans, skinny jeans, sweatpants and dress pants at him. While he changes, she compares eyeshadow colours to t-shirt colours, and tests lipsticks on her hand.

In the end, she squeezes him into a grey shirt and white jeans. Then she compares with a navy jacket and red one, eventually deciding on red.

“There,” Natasha says finally. She wolf whistles. “Honestly, I don’t really know how Clint is going to live up to this.”   


Bucky moves to stand in front of the full length mirror. She’s right, he doesn’t look bad. Actually, he looks pretty good.

“Makeup?” She asks him. He nods, so Natasha spins him to face her. “Specifics?”

Bucky shrugs. “What’ll look best?”

In the end, she decides on a thin line of black pencil liner, smudging it out with a Q-Tip. Then a coat or three of black mascara. Natasha deliberates between two shades of lipstick, before veto-ing them both.

“I think that’ll do for now,” she says. 

Bucky spins to look in the mirror again. “Do you think he’ll like it?”   


“Honestly? I think he’ll love it.”   
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the actual date
> 
> and then the second one, sort of, because the first one went kind of a little bit wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lolol hope u like this

“Hey,” Clint says. Then he freezes and blushes.

Bucky grins. “Hi. Where are we going?”

“I- Uh, burgers. Hope thats okay,” Clint says, semi-self consciously smoothing his hands down the mustard yellow shirt he’s wearing.

“That sounds fine,” Bucky says. He lets his eyes wander over the black leather jacket Clint’s wearing, and the black jeans that are tight in all the right places. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Clint says, offering his arm up. Then he grimaces. “Sorry. Is that too.. Forward?”

Bucky chuckles and snatches Clint’s hand up. “It’s fine.”   


“Oh. Good, then,” Clint says.  Bucky glances over (and up) at him. There’s a brush of red dusting the top of his cheekbones.

 

*

 

It’s a little bit awkward.

The place Clint picked isn’t fancy, but it is empty and kind of quiet. It looks kind of fifties, and music plays from either the old jukebox in the corner, or the partially concealed Bluetooth speakers scattered around. Bucky isn’t sure which, but he can’t distinguish who the artist is either.

Clint looks right at home, actually. He leads Bucky to the table farthest from the door, but with clear views of the entrance, back door and all the windows. Bucky suspects Clint doesn’t even do it deliberately, it’s just his spy training kicking in and automatically seeking out the place that would give them the highest advantage in battle. 

There’s two other people in, and they’re both sitting up at the counter. Only the girl, brown hair dip-dyed neon pink, black lipstick, and cherry red Doc Martin’s, turns to look at them, and her gaze doesn’t linger. Bucky doesn’t stare at her for long either.

Both of them glance at the man (scruffy shirt, scruffy shoes and hair so long it’s hard to tell where his hair ends and beard begins) for longer. Bucky’s heart kind of skips a beat, but he puts it down to nerves. After all, Clint is hot, and he’s kind of lost his charm over the years.

“Have you been here before?” Bucky asks, once they’ve both eyed all potential exits (whether it’s subconsciously or not).

Clint shakes his head. “Never. S’posed to be really good though. At least, that’s what all three of the Yelp reviews said.”   


Bucky chuckles. “Because you gotta trust Yelp.”   


“Do you even know what Yelp is?” Clint asks. “I don’t know when it was created, but it definitely wasn’t the nineteen forties.”   


“I do know what the internet is,” Bucky says. “I’d be more surprised if Steve knew what it is.”   


“Then again, Tony’s his boyfriend. I kind of don’t want to know all the things Tony’s introduced Steve to, you know?” Clint grins.

“Very good point. So how many burger places have you gone to?” Bucky asks.

Clint shrugs. “No clue. How many are in the city?”

“Is it your mission to try a burger from every restaurant in New York?” Bucky asks.

“It wasn’t before, but it is now,” Clint says. “Are you in?”

“I’m game,” Bucky says. “I’d like to see if there’s any places still standing from the forties.”   


“Probably. Somewhere. We’ll find them. Hey, I think we order from the counter, do you know what you want yet?” Clint asks.

Bucky scans the laminated menu quickly. There’s a lot of novelty burgers, with all sort of fancy names and fancy pictures and fancy descriptions. So Bucky just chooses the one he can make the most sense of and points it out.

“Alright. I’ll go place an order,” Clint says. “Don’t move.”   


“Wasn’t planning on it,” Bucky says. His eyes follow Clint up the counter, watch him lean on his elbows on it to speak to the cashier. The girl barely glances up, but the man does turn to stare at Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t notice until the man pulls a gun on Clint. 

Then he’s up and on his feet before Clint can even register the gun being cocked.

“Clint, get the civs out of here!” Bucky exclaims, grabbing the arm of the man holding the gun.

Clint sends a cheesy thumbs up before vaulting over the countertop to pull the server behind it. He ushers the Doc Martin’s girl behind too, whispering something Bucky isn’t paying much attention to them. 

“Asset,” the man says in a low rumble. “Asset, come with me.”   


“Who are you?” Bucky asks.

“I’m the Handler,” the man says. “Asset.”   


Handler pushes against Bucky, managing to dislodge the grip Bucky has on his wrist. He sends four bullets in Clint’s direction. One ricochets off a neon pop art print. Another flies into a glass display case, sending a spray of glass around. The other two embed themselves in the wall where Clint’s head had literally just been.

“Clint, get outta here!” Bucky yells, spinning around to grab the Handler’s wrist and pull the gun from his grip. It works, but not before he can shoot off another five or so. They all land wildly. Thankfully, they all miss Clint.

“Civs gone,” Clint calls. “Did you seriously come out unarmed?”

Clint aims a kick at the guys knees from the back, making them buckle. 

“Did you seriously come out unarmed?” Bucky retorts. “I thought this was a date! I didn’t realise Hydra would come looking for us.”   


“Jesus, it’s Hydra? Christ,” Clint grumbles, catching the punch Handler had been about to throw.

“Who else would it be?” Bucky says. “Can you hold him? I’ll call the team.”   


Clint nods, aiming a jab at the back of Handler’s neck. It doesn’t knock him out, but it does elicit a faint, wobbly groan. He rips a wire from the overhead lights and ties the guy’s wrists together, and then ties him to one of the chairs with strips of his leather jacket.

Bucky comes back on the phone. “..Steve, I’m fine. Dammit, get Tony to track my GPS if you’re so worried- What the hell did you do to that jacket?!”   


Clint glances up and grins. “I don’t normally bring rope out with me. Or handcuffs, or zip ties. This works.” “I liked that jacket,” Bucky mutters. “Christ, Rogers. Get your ass over here and you can check yourself,” then he hangs up.

“I’ll get another,” Clint promises. He stamps on the Handler’s foot. “That was kinda anti-climatic.”   


“Would you rather our date gets more sabotaged then it was?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No way. It was just kind of a shit fight. They’re not training them as well as they used to,” Clint says.

Bucky considers, tilting his head to stare at how the man is tied in pieces of Clint’s jacket. “They are kinda stupid, aren’t they?”

“Taking the two of us on without back up?” Clint says, “Hell yeah.”   


Bucky chuckles. “Are the civilians okay?”

“Think so. Neither one was hurt. I sent them out, so they probably went to the nearest Precinct, or something. Even though I did say not to call the police, because we kind of had it sorted.”   


“Good. That they’re okay, I mean. Although we can probably get Steve to sort out that. I just gotta do puppy dog eyes, and a bit of pouting. And hey, you already have a bruise. We can play it up a bit and get out of it.”   


“I don’t know whether to call you a genius or an evil mastermind,” Clint says.

“Genius,” Bucky says. “Although they could kind of be the same thing, you know?”

“Don’t let Tony hear you calling him an evil mastermind,” Clint says.

“Hear you calling Tony what?” Tony asks, stepping over a pile of rubble to get in. “What happened here?”

Bucky and Clint both point a finger at the guy tied up in synchronization. Tony turns a glare on him. Which quickly morphes to confusion.

“Is that your jacket, Clint?” Tony asks.

“I’m not doing this again. You better not be as attached as Bucky,” Clint grumbles. “But yes, its my jacket. Didn’t have rope, didn’t have handcuffs. I made do with the wires for the hands, because is he moved too much they’d burn. But I had to improvise for the actually tied to a chair thing. Besides, it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one, is it?”

“That’s not the point,” Tony says.

Bucky cuts in before it can escalate. “Is Natasha coming?”

“Had a hard time keeping her away,” Tony mutters. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s head over heels for the two of you. But I’ve seen her with Pepper.”   


“You too?” Bucky asks. “I’m starting to think her and Pepper are the only two people who don’t realise how they look at one another.”   


“Probably,” Tony shrugs. “Anyway, the others should be here in.. J, what’s their ETA?” The AI says something in Tony’s earpiece, which he then relays. “Two minutes thirty.”   


Clint nods. “Awesome. We might need to get SHIELD in, just to clean up the mess.”   


“And the guy?” Tony asks.

“And the guy,” Clint confirms.

“But maybe we should subject him to Nat first,” Bucky mutters. “He did try to shoot Clint. And I was about seventy five percent certain he was about to start rattling off the trigger words, too.”   


“Natasha would kill him,” Tony says. “Whether it be from shock, or pain, or something else, I’m not sure.”   


“I’m kind of open to killing him too,” Bucky grunts, staring at Clint.

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Clint says. “Helluva lot of paperwork, murder is. Even if it’s your job.”   


“Huh. If we take him back to the tower and declare him missing, do you think SHIELD would look into it?” Bucky asks.

“They have access to pretty much anything under the sun. If they aren’t able to see and hear us already, I’d be very surprised,” Clint says. “They probably knew what we were talking about before we even talked about it.”   


“SHIELD,” Tony grumbles. “Whole buncha assholes.”   


“I’m SHIELD,” Clint says.

“You’re better than SHIELD,” Tony says. “Natasha too. I don’t really know any other SHIELD agents. Oh, hey, speaking of Natasha, I think she and Steve just landed somewhere. They’ll be in civvies, so look out for them. Nat might just want to murder someone so don’t do anything to set her off.”   


“I do know how to handle Natasha,” Clint says 

“I’m sure you do,” Tony snorts. 

 

*

 

“I fucking hate Hydra,” Natasha says, storming into whats left of the burger place. Tony’s outside talking to the press with Steve, and Clint and Bucky are sitting on the countertop, watching the guy tied up in Clint’s jacket. Bucky is sort of leaning against Clint.

“That makes three of us,” Clint says, looking up to meet her eyes. “How are you, Nat?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you two that?” Natasha asks. “You’re bruised, Clint. And it’s been not very long at all since you almost died. And Bucky’s probably a bit rattled, since it’s, you know, fucking Hydra. So I reiterate. How are you?”

“We’re fine. Egos a little bruised,” Bucky says. “They sent one guy for the two of us. How much faith do they have in their agents?”

“Yeah. It was a little underwhelming,” Clint muses. “But we’re fine. Honestly, I think the two civilians are more rattled than us.”   


“Well, we do do this everyday, it feels like,” Tony says, walking back in. His stepped out of his armor, so he’s walking around in the black flight suit. The arc reactor light shines through the material, reflecting off of his face. “I’m not surprised, really.”   


“Point,” Natasha says. “Have you and Steve managed to get the press away for a bit?”

“Steve’s still talking to them. But they should be gone in five minutes, so we can leave then. Unless you wanna brave the vultures,” Tony shrugs. “I couldn’t tell you how much of you would be left though. They’d want to know what happened, why you two were out together, whether Bucky can still be trusted, why Hydra is back, whether the world is ending, whether Bucky’s cheating on Natasha, whether Clint is cheating on Natasha, whether you guys are just having an affair-”

“Why does most of that revolve around our relationship?” Clint interrupts.

“Because that’s all the public cares about,” Tony says. “You’ve spent enough time around the press and the public to realise that gossip sells. Hawkeye’s new hot shot is more likely to bring in more money than Hawkeye wins against old homeless man, you know?”

“It sucks,” Bucky says. “Worst thing is, it hasn’t changed much at all.”

“Hey, Bucky!” Steve exclaims. “Are you guys hurt?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. Clint got bruised, and ruined his jacket, but the guy was kinda pathetic.”

Steve glances over the man pitifully. “Don’t make ‘em like they used to, huh?”

Natasha glares at the man again too. “I’m trying really hard not to stab him right now.”   


“Aw, you can do it, Natty,” Clint teases.

“Are you telling me to try harder, or to actually kill him?” Natasha asks, fingering the knife tucked into her belt. “If I can’t stab, can I at least punch?”

“Go for it,” Bucky says. “And I wouldn’t kill him, because I think SHIELD are going to want to bring him in for questioning.”   


“Hey, did you hear? I think Phil said they were building a new compartment for the Fridge, specially reserved for Hydra agents,” Clint says.

“That’s too kind,” Natasha remarks. “I’d build an entirely new prison just for Hydra. Keep it at four degrees, celsius and give them a taste of their own medicine.”   


“Are you talking cryo torture?” Bucky says.

“Pretty good idea, actually. I bet if we talk to Coulson, he’ll talk to some of the SHIELD guys and they’ll do it,” says Clint. “Anyway, are you punching that guy? Cause if you don’t I will.”   


“Oh shush. You’ve already had a turn,” Natasha says. Then she knocks the guy out.

 

*

 

“Hey, do you wanna try again tomorrow?” Clint asks, swinging his legs over the ledge of the roof.

“What, a date?” Bucky asks.

“No, a bank heist,” Clint says. “Of course a date. We’ll find another place to get burgers. Or something else, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Bucky chuckles. “Sure, we can get burgers again. Maybe I’ll bring a knife or seven this time.”

“Good idea. I will disarm them with my charm,” Clint says.

“You’re not gonna bring a weapon?”

“Nat forbade me from bringing stuff out of the tower without a specific reason,” Clint shrugs. “Especially weapons. So I’ll have to get a signed note, or something, from Nat or Agent Coulson.”   


“Is that Phil?” Bucky asked.

“Yup. He was mine and Natasha’s supervising officer when we first joined SHIELD, and he became the Avengers handler for a bit. Then he was Director of SHIELD, now he’s just a level ten Agent,” Clint explains. “But I don’t actually know how much of that I was supposed to tell you, so don’t repeat it, please.”   


“Backstory: unlocked,” Bucky says, in a sort of deep, video game voice. Clint laughs. “No worries. Did you have any idea of where you wanted to go tomorrow?”

Clint shakes his head no. “We could look for somewhere now?”

So Clint pulls out his phone, activates the hologram feature (which is a new thing- that you must keep absolutely quiet because Tony has released them to the public yet) and pulls up a virtual keyboard. He types  _ good burger restaurant  _ and hits the search key. 

“Are you not gonna search for New York?” Bucky asks. 

“No. We can go anywhere,” Clint says. “They won’t miss the Quinjet for one night. Hell, Natasha will probably encourage it.”

“What if there’s a battle in, like, Bangkok, and they need it?” Bucky says. 

“Alright, if it makes you feel better, we can go..” Clint swipes on the hologram and clicks on one option. “Here. Look, it’s in Brooklyn.”

Bucky scrolls through the website. “Huh. Looks pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky nods, so Clint calls up and reserves a table. Then they spend the rest of the night sitting on the rooftop, watching funny cat video compilations on YouTube.

 

*

 

“Reservation for Barton?” Clint says, making eye contact with the waitress (even though he’s like, ten inches taller than her).

“Of course,” the waitress says. “Back corner, like you requested. If you’ll follow me.”

She leads them to the corner, and Bucky takes the time to map out all potential entrances and exits, and get a read on all the other guests. It’s a lot busier than the one yesterday, but it’s mostly families. Sons, and daughters, and mothers, and fathers, and grandparents. There are quite a few birthday balloons.

There are a couple of teenagers, all spotty and awkward, either with friends or dates. Bucky let’s his eyes slide past them. Nothing seems up, yet.

“Here we are,” The waitress says, gesturing to a little round table. “There’ll be a server along with menus in just a minute. We’re busier than usual tonight, so there might be a little bit of a longer wait.”   


Bucky turns to Clint once she’s gone. “This place isn’t very full. How busy do you think it gets on a normal day?”

Clint shrugs. “I don’t know. But we have two choices here. One, we can tell the others about this place, risk the media catching Tony Stark eating here, and then it’ll blow up. Or two, we can keep it to ourselves and just tip loads.”   


“But there’s a chance the media will see us here too,” Bucky says.

“Neither of us are as well known as Tony or Cap,” Clint says. “No offence, but they’ll probably think your is still fucked and mistrust your judgement.”   


Bucky laughs. “Let’s keep it to ourselves for now. If they do takeaway, we can take some back and surprise everyone. And then not tell them where it’s from.”   


“And Tony won’t be able to track us because that violates the rules Cap set,” Clint grins. “Great idea.”

A server, a tall, gangly looking guy in his mid twenties stops by their table. “Hi, what can I get you,” he says in a sort of tired, whiny voice.

Clint fiddles with the drinks menu on the table, dog earing the corner. “What would you recommend?”

“They’re burgers, man. Processed meat that’ll clog up your arteries. I don’t think they’re very different,” the server says.

“We’ll have whatever the chef thinks is best,” Bucky says, “Thanks.”   


“On your own heads, be it,” the server mutters. “Sure, then.” Then he scribbles a line on the notepad and heads off in direction of what must be the kitchen. 

“Doesn’t he remind you of Steve a bit?” Bucky says.

Clint turns to him, surprised. “Uh? No?”

“With the artery clogging schtick,” Bucky specifies. “Remember when Steve disposed of all the unhealthy stuff we owned? Nat took to hiding cookies in the shower stalls on the R&D levels. Tony wasn’t happy when he found out.”   


Clint grins when understanding dawns on his face. “I do remember! That was a taxing week.”   


“Ugh. I think I still have nightmares about green smoothies,” Bucky says. 

“You and me both, pal,” Clint says. “It was painful.”   


“Honestly, one way to get your enemies to break down though. Just remove all the Oreos from their general vicinity.”

“That’s torture,” Clint gasps. “Way worse than the medieval methods.”   


“What do you know about medieval torture?” Bucky asks.

“It’s a SHIELD thing. They make us take an exam to find out how well versed we are on torture methods over the years. I don’t really know why, but I guess it’s so they can do some freaky-deaky psych shit and find out what kind of devices they’ll need if I ever get chosen to torture some info out of some bad guys,” Clint shrugs. “It’s weird.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared,” Bucky admits.

“Well, you’re not running for the hills now, so I guess it’s not too bad. You just fought a whole bunch of robots and aliens and other space monkey stuff, so I don’t know how you’re surprised that SHIELD had us take a course on medieval torture,” Clint says.

“You make a good point,” Bucky says.

“Can I get you any drinks,” the spotty, gangly server interrupts. 

Clint turns to look up at him and nods. “Yep. What do you want, Bucky?”

Bucky shrugs. “You go. Twenty first century drinks are not my speciality.”   


Clint orders something that sounds like raspberry lemon for the both of them, and then turns back to Bucky once the server is gone. “So I know all about medieval torture devices, and you know nothing about twenty first century drinks?”

“I guess so,” Bucky says. “It’s not like I had much time to study them. And it’s not like anyway actually made a whole proper book about twenty first century drinks, is it? If someone did make one, I would read nothing but that for a week.”

“For real?” Clint asks.

Bucky nods. “For real. I can remember a few drinks from the forties, and a couple from when I went undercover for something or other in the seventies. But that’s it. I normally just order whatever has the nicest colour.”   


Clint raises his eyebrows. “So what are the best drink colours?”

“Anything radioactive looking is a no-go,” Bucky says. “Pale to dark browns are usually good, it means it’s either tea, coffee, hot chocolate, beer, or whiskey. Clear can be alright too, because that’s water, vodka and tequila and they’re good. Sometimes reds and greens and oranges can be okay, because that’s juices, and stuff. But I will absolutely not drink neon orange, or neon red, or neon green drinks, because they just look a bit..”   


“Violent?” Clint supplies.

“Yes,” Bucky agrees.

“I get you. I mean, I’m wary about accepting drinks from strangers anyway. It’s a super spy thing, I think. We’re all trained to always make our own drinks, just in case someone tries to drug us, or poison us, or kill us, or something.”   


“Remind me never to be a spy,” Bucky says, “Sounds like way too much over thinking.”   


“Got that right,” Clint grumbles. “But without it, I wouldn’t ever have met Nat, or the other guys, or Coulson. So it can’t be all bad, I guess. Hey, did you ever meet Peggy Carter?”

“Steve’s girlfriend from back in the day? Once or twice, I think. Why?” Bucky asks.

“She had a hand in creating SHIELD. Only it was called the SSR then, the Strategic Scientific Reserve. SHIELD prototype, I guess,” Clint says. “Pretty badass, honestly. There’s videos of her working on missions, and they get shown to all the baby agents. I can probably get Phil to steal some copies if you and Steve wanna watch them.”

“Actually, yeah. I think Steve would like that,” Bucky says. “Pretty awesome, though. Makes me wish I knew her better.”   


“Well, I know her great-niece,” Clint shrugs. “Agent 13. She’s kind of in love with Steve though, so.”

“Isn’t that, like, incest?” Bucky says. “It’s kind weird being in love with your aunt’s old flame, isn’t it?”

“It’s weird,” Clint agrees. “Oh, hey! Burgers!”

 

*

 

**_Superhero Sensation Spotted with Team Member Out of Time_ **

_ Clint Barton, aka Avenger Hawkeye, was spotted coming out of a restaurant notorious for it’s novelty burgers and family friendly atmosphere with team mate James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, Hydra’s Winter Soldier and Captain America’s long lost best friend.  _

_ Barnes has spent the last seventy years in and out of cryo-chambers, working as Hydra’s brainwashed assassin, and was recently taken into the Avengers team. Barton was recruited as a SHIELD agent (Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division) by Director Nick Fury, after spending some time travelling in a circus. _

_ They were spotted after grabbing a meal at a burger restaurant, which they left, hand in hand. _

_ [Insert: blurry photo of Barton and Barnes holding hands]. _

 

“Hey, look!” Clint exclaims, waving his tablet above his head. “Superhero sensation!”

Natasha grabs the tablet to read the article on it, and then scoffs. “Obviously, they’ve never met you.”

“Superhero sensation?” Steve asks, tucking his book under his arm and sitting down on the couch. “Who’s this?”

“Me, obviously,” Tony says, vaulting over the back of the couch and landing in Steve’s lap.

“Obviously, it’s me,” Clint says. “It’s an article about me and Bucky. They described Bucky as the man out of time-”

“Hey, that’s my moniker!” Steve interrupts.

“And superhero sensation is mine,” Tony says. “You guys, stealing isn’t right.”

“What?” Bucky says, snatching the tablet from Natasha and scanning it. “Oh, crap.”   


“What?” Natasha asks, frowning. “If you don’t want the media attention, we can talk to the PR team, get them to ask the paper to take this out.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just,” Bucky grimaces. “Now everyone’s going to know where our restaurant is.”   


“Sure, that’s what you’re worried about. Not that the world is now going to be speculating that you and Clint are dating,” Tony says.

“We are dating, though,” Clint says.

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugs. “That’s not that bad.”   


“Besides, you underestimate the media,” Natasha says. “They’ll all do their best to pass this off as a two friends holding hands thing. It’ll take you guys nearly having sex in Central Park before they start realising that maybe you are actually together.”

“Good point,” Tony says. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, we do have ways of getting it taken down.”

“I’m fine with it if Clint’s fine with it,” Bucky says, turning to look at Clint.

“I honestly could not care less what everyone thinks of me. As long as it doesn’t affect my relationship with Coulson,” Clint says.

“Your what, with who?” Bucky asks.

Clint looks horrified. “Not like that! No, no, no way, never. Not at all. Ever. Ever ever.”

“Don’t let Phil hear you say that,” Natasha remarks.

“Oh, shush. Phil’s in love with Steve. And besides, SHIELD has a rule or something about dating your SO’s,” Clint says.

“Your whats?” Bucky asks.

“Supervising officers!” Clint exclaims. “Like I told you the other night. God, I’m just digging myself into a deeper and deeper hole.”   


“Yes, you are,” Natasha says.

“Me and Phil were never together. Ever. And we never will be,” Clint says feverently. “No matter what Nat, or Phil tells you.”   


“You did date once upon a time,” Natasha says.

“Yeah, for an  _ undercover mission,” _ Clint says. “It wasn’t proper dating. Just using it to get inside.. I don’t think I can explain what the mission was for, but it was like twenty years ago-”   


“Slight exaggeration,” Natasha interrupts.

“Oh, fuck off, Nat,” Clint grumbles. “Point is, me and Phil were never together, okay? Not properly, anyway. And we never will be. Besides, Nat, I thought you were the one trying to get us together? Why would you try to sabotage our relationship like this?”

“Yeah, Nat,” Bucky says, grinning. “Don’t worry, superhero sensation, I believe you.”

Clint giggles, grins, and tugs Bucky back into the elevator. As soon as the doors shut, Tony bursts into laughter.

“Holy shit,” he gasps out. “That was- they are both idiots.”   


“You’ve got that right,” Natasha says primly.

“Ooh!” Tony exclaims suddenly.

Steve and Natasha both narrow their eyes and glare at him. Steve says, “what, Tony? You’ve got your planning face on and I don’t know how I feel about that.”   


“Jarvis,” Tony says, “Have you got video backup saved of Clint giggling?”

“I do, sir. It’s in the Tower security databanks, if you wish to access it,” Jarvis says.

“Why do you want that, Tony?” Steve asks.

“ _What_ do you want with it?” Natasha asks, glaring at him.

“Blackmail,” Tony shrugs. “Obviously.”

“Right, naturally,” Steve says.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i guess like hi
> 
> comment if u liked this pls (i need that sweet sweet validation)
> 
> i already have another one of these in the works. only it'll probably be of the week from hell, the one where steve makes them all eat healthy. so pre-winterhawk. but we'll still get nat and bucky bonding.
> 
> i also joined the spideypool prompt bang on the spideypoolfanfic tumblr! so, like, look out for that, i guess. im uber excited. they're breaking my fic bang virginity.. i dont know where i was going with that.
> 
> anyway i think thats all i wanted to say. at least, i cant think of anything more. so i guess, go check out my [tumblr](https://spideysstark.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> okay so hey!
> 
> this was gonna be a one part one shot but i decided to split it in two because 1; its been about a week and a half since i posted anything and thats a while seeing as ive been working on a lot of stuff and 2: i thought it would be better to do this prologue sort of thing first, and then the second part as their actual date.
> 
> the reason i keep making bucky wear makeup is because hydra put that black stuff on his eyes right? so my headcanon is wearing makeup is his way of saying fuck u to hydra and also he probably looks ULTRA hot in it.
> 
> the height thing is accurate. all the peppers that clint mentions are actual peppers. ive also never read the black widow comics (oops) so i did some googling. all of the backstory for nat is either me bullshitting or stuff i found on google
> 
> the outfit i describe him as wearing is one that seb has worn before! but i cba to put a link in or something so just use your imagination.
> 
> pretty pls comment? i live for them! i hope you enjoyed reading it.


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